Just what are Skiffle Carrots?
by latinisdead
Summary: I am paying homage to Miranda Hart's character Miranda from her TV show. This is Chummy's first attempt at cooking a romantic dinner for two. It does not bode well. there is mild swearing, so I have set this to T rating. That rating may change after the second chapter. Please leave feedback.
1. Just one simple task

Author's notes: this is a homage fic for Miranda hart's TV character Miranda. I thought it would fit well to fit Chummy as well.

Just what are Skiffle carrots?

She had one simple task!

Just!

ONE!

Simple!

Task!

Her friends tease her relentlessly. Chummy, they all said, remember the last time you tried to cream eggs? And the trio who are dressed in their uniforms breaks into fits and giggles over that attempt. She stood towering over them, hoping it was enough to intimate them into submission, but she couldn't help but burst into fits of giggles.

"It was Oeufs Elisabeth they didn't turn out half bad."

"Chummy." They chime in unison.

She was excitable and her nervousness showed a great deal.

"Now! Out! Go! Don't you have mothers to attend?" Her voice rose after each word punctuating her nervousness.

"Relax Chummy, you have Mrs. Beeton's books, pick one, and stay with it."

"Just avoid eggs or toast or salmon or water."

Trixie quips and that set all of them off in another fit of laughter.

"I can make toast." She laughs to the point where she's red in the face.

"Come on, now, go!" she ushers them out of the kitchen.

After they left she composes herself. With a deep breathe in she slowly lets it out and counts to ten. As she is a creature of habit she absent mindedly holds her crucifix gives it a kiss and a prayer. Lord knows she'll need it today.

She sets her watch, within three hours he'll be here. One thing she could rely on with Peter was his punctuality. But today, maybe perhaps he could be late? She could hope on hope.

"So, Isabella, what do you have in store for us today?"

How bloody hard could it be?

She tried to skiffle carrots – julienning left her with three cut fingers, and a burnt thumb. Not going well at all, she sighs. But time ticks away, she had less than two hours left and nothing to show for it. She chucks the charred bits into the bin.

Poaching eggs not terribly difficult, she's seen Mrs. B cook it a few times – well timing was everything. Perhaps this was a simple dish to prepare. But what goes with poached eggs?

Fish! And she sets to it. Finding there was a note on the bass in the door hand written by Fred with his name on it. Mental note, buy him some fancy whiskey, all will be forgiven. This was after all for a man she would soon marry, and they're only a few weeks from that. She had to show him she's a competent wife.

Soon as she had the fish out of its paper, and prepared according to the simple instructions. So far, this was the easiest task at hand.

Things were progressing. Not only did the fish resemble something that was in the image minus the chard edges, the eggs were also done and now she had the cream sauce reducing in the double boiler. She hopes it would be suffice. Not that he would care, he's told her a million times he loves her for herself not for her cooking or her desires to be a good wife…but for her own person.

This would not do!

She glances at her watch time ticks closer. And she sets off to head upstairs to change. Nearly there! She wore the beautiful sea green silk dress she designed herself for that meeting, which she never wore since then.

Then a noise was heard. It couldn't be. No, she's forgotten the cream sauce. She reaches the kitchen through the back stairs only to pause; the kitchen was covered in hot sculled milk. It smattered the stove, and walls. She sits at the table, her eyes watering from the sight. She couldn't believe she's ruined something so freaking easy.

"FUCK!"

Not often did she swear. But this drew the line. He had rung the bell, and she stood up from the table defeated and drained from crying. She almost wished he'd not show up, but she makes her way to the door and opens it.

He held pink carnations and steps inside. He looks at her with concern and a frown. He took a sniff and notices the smell of sculled milk but refrains from commenting on it.

"Camilla?"

"Peter. Sorry, I wanted to cook and…"

He took her hand and held it for a second.

"I don't –"not what he wanted to say so he tries again, "I do care that you want to do this, but this isn't why I am here."

She leads him inside. "Just the cream sauce it blew up and all over the kitchen."

"Come here." He pulls her into a hug and breathing her in. She's so intoxicating, that scent it really drives him wild. In her ear he whispers "Let me take a look, it can't be that bad."

He enters the kitchen, it was exactly how she described it, and the sauce had exploded all over the stove and back wall. He sighs, it wasn't bad, just won't be easy to clean.

"Let's not worry about any of this, let's clean it up and then I will take you out for dinner."

So, they set to cleaning the kitchen up.


	2. Mixed Signals

Mixed Signals

It didn't talk that long once they split the tasks up and got to work on the kitchen. He offers to take the harder of the two jobs; to clean the walls, and stove. Then he'll help her with the dishes, table and to help chuck the wasted food into the bin.

She needed solace, she works better in silence. Sometimes she envies the nuns when they're in the Great Silence, to reach God through it, really helps sort your prayers out. At this moment she needs it. Now, she refrains from talking and just works on washing each pot, dish, cutlery and anything else that she saw to clean.

He glances at her; twice he's seen her wear that dress, twice she's hip deep in mess. It's the little things he notices, oh how it just hugs her curves just a tiny bit tighter. This sends mix signals to his body causing a huge distraction to his pants.

"Damn it."

He turns quickly so she couldn't see what his issue really was.

"Peter?"

She glances up to see his back was to her, he must sound natural.

"Nothing Love." He gulps and swallows hard.

This is insane, how can he work with such conditions and in a nun's house to boot. Not to draw attention to his condition he took a seat at the table then focuses on the mess to clean. He reaches for fish on the plate; he holds his mouth with a hand and stifles a chuckle. The fish looked fine on top, but the charred bits and underneath were completely burnt. Poor Camilla he thought, she tried so hard. Reaching for the bin he notices blackened sticks which he assumed was carrots at one point in time. This makes him love her even more.

No, must not think these thoughts!

Must keep to the task at hand!

He tosses the fish into the bin and the eggs next.

"Listen, let's just head to my place, we can whip up something simple there." He suggests.

She wrings out her cloth and hung it over the facet to dry, the dishes were complete.

_I had one simple job! _

"Sounds good."

"Did I mention you look beautiful?" He felt that it was safe to stand and does holding out his arm. \

She smiles "And so do you."

She notices the flowers they were laid aside and not in a vase full of water. "Let me attend to the flowers."

On that note, they head out the door only to cross the path of Trixie who grins happily at them. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."


	3. Dinner for Two!

Dinner for two!

There was music, and laughter coming from his kitchen, and a plume of smoke too. He opens the window to clear the smoke out, while they took their hand at cooking together. Perhaps he's not the best cook either, so this would work out perfectly. But before all of this, he took her to the pier because he had a plan, he wants to recreate that dinner with her. He just needs a few things before they heads to his house. And with the hour growing late, they must hurry before the markets and fish mongers were done and closed up shop.

"This way, Love." He takes the lead and heads towards the opposite way from his flat.

It was still light out, enough time to walk along the pier and the came to the fishmonger that was Tim sitting on Frank's old stool. But a lot of them had closed up shop for the day. He originally wanted to purchase from Elsie, but she wasn't there. Being a new mother may have something to do with it. She does have the best oysters on the pier. He's had a few in his day. That's a meal he thought he'd share with Chummy soon, but today, this was about her meal. The one she really wanted to create for him. So, he snuck the book Mrs. Beeton's Cookery and tucks it away so he could cook it with her.

"Tim, mate. Tell me you still have sea bass left to buy?" Peter asks.

Chummy looks surprised but she went with it. She hasn't seen Tim since the death of Peggy and Frank. She shivers, the air was cool on the pier, and the smell from the salt air blew across them, Peter notices she's forgotten her coat, and slips his over her shoulders. There was of course a lot of fish left. He wasn't as good as Frank with barters or creating deals but it was a living and he had enough each week to keep a roof over his head and enough food in his belly too.

"Hey, did Fred ever like that sea bass I gave him yesterday? He fixed my cart, and for a trade I gave him my best catch."

Chummy chuckles along with Peter. "Oh, I don't think he'll ever get to tell you how it tastes." This jus puzzles Tim, so they had to catch him up on what happened to that fish.

Tim wraps up two fillets of sea bass in the brown paper enough for them both. "And why don't you wrap up another one for Fred then too." Peter then pays Tim the amount and they leave Tim to sell more fish before the day is done.

They miss the greengrocers they were closing up their wagons and little carts so, back towards his flat.

"Sorry, no skiffle carrots, I'm afraid."

Back in his kitchen they had donned on aprons, and he removed his tie, vest and rolls his sleeves up so he could keep it clean as drycleaners weren't cheap. They were having a lot of fun. He slips behind her to help with the eggs, poaching wasn't so easy after all. His hands reach to touch hers, and he holds her rather closely and watches the eggs poach in the hot water. His damn body had a mind of its own tonight. He pulls back a little hoping she wouldn't feel it.

She felt it!

_Poor dear Peter!_ She thought. She stifles a giggle they have become very close, a few times she was found in just her slip and undergarments. It was possible, perhaps soon she thought she was ready for the next stage in their relationship. In five whole weeks that will be her life.

Soon!

"I'll set the table." He pulls away quickly but knew she felt it. His pulse races just the thought of her naked in his - enough of this; he just had to focus on one simple task.

The meal was made, with much less chard bits and no explosions or sauce all over the place. He had set the table as romantically as it could be, with just a candle, no table cloth, but he wasn't in it to empress. Ok, he was, but his mind was elsewhere so it was hard to focus on such simple things as table settings for two.

Here's the true testament of his devotion towards his love for her. He took a bite of the eggs she cooked them. It had some of the white sauce drizzled over top of them with a sprinkle of paprika to pull in the flavour. He layers it with fish and ate a bite. He cleanses his palate with a white wine they purchased at the wine and spirits store. This was probably the most romantic evening he's had with her.

"Forget the dishes, Camilla." He rose to collect her from the kitchen. The meal was so good. Both of them were full and he was glad his experiment was a successful one. The idea of them working together showed that they could in fact create a house together.

She places the cloth down as he took her into his arms to start dancing to the soft music he found in the record player.

Maybe he'll be lucky tonight! And he leans in for a kiss.


	4. No little Crescendos, Please

No little Crescendos, Please

Perhaps, Pete my chum, you're the luckiest man alive. And rightly so, because he had her in his arms, and in his bed naked. She was naked in his bed! He takes a peak between the sheets in which they are tangled up in her long legs and limbs intertwined with his. The euphoria was still felt and wishes he could feel like this forever. He kisses the top of her head as he could feel her breathing slowly. Sleep wasn't that far off for both. It's been a rather long day and now they've got each other's company.

She was in his arms and in his bed.

Naked!

She felt safe, and small and in her perfect place in his arms. Not in clinic breaking parapets, bumping into things and creating such a ruckus. No. She was in his arms falling asleep. Feeling his hands on her breasts stroking ever so softly creating her nipples to stiffen to hard peaks, his tongue then replaces his touch pulling her back to him.

"Hello." He whispers.

"How exactly did we get here?" It was a rhetorical question. But he answers it.

"You planned it with burnt carrots, and fish."

"Expect more in your future Mr. Noakes."

"Quite right too Ms. Browne."

She rolls on top, his eyes pop open to see this heavenly view of her. She rocks so she could feel him pressing against her inner thigh. And with a bold thought, she reaches down to feel him; her hands are warm, and with her very slender fingers she touches him lightly just the tip; his eyes shut instantly. My God this woman, she'll kill him before it began. Does he dare to thrust into her touch? Why, yes he does.

She leans forward pressing herself against him. His mind was about to explode from her teasing him as she nibbles on his neck. His arms cradle her as they're chest to chest. He wants to slip inside her, oh how that would be lovely. He hears her whisper a funny little line. "No Little Crescendos, Please."

Right!

He reaches into his bed side table and finds the packages but she takes it from him. With a sultry lilt she spoke. "Let me."

The thought of tiny little sombreros and O-Lays makes her laugh. He chuckles as well, and asks. "What's so funny?"

"It's a tiny little sombrero." She holds it out.

"You're incredible." He meant it in more ways than one.

With her delicate fingers she rolls it ever so gently onto him. Then guides him inside, she moves so slowly at first gently finding her rhythm. He knew he wouldn't last, no not at all. His hands guide her hips helping her move and he joins her with each thrust. If this wasn't love he didn't know what is. Although this was lovely she wanted to feel him on top and with a nudge he clues in rolling to pin her down. He trails soft kisses down her neck, oh her scent, it was heavenly, from roses to her arousal mixed with her soap. He positions himself so he could reconnect with her and thrusts deeply inside making her moan and sing his name many times.

He pants besides her trying to regulate his heartbeat. "Most definitely incredible."


	5. Small Favours!

Small Favours!

Her toes were cold and the only thing worse than cold toes, is a boyfriend who doesn't fancy sharing the eiderdown! I think NOT! She took her rather long foot and slid it up his side, causing him to awake and fly off the bed!

"Couldn't sleep?" She said cheekily.

He quickly climbs back into the bed under the eiderdown. "Someone has cold feet."

"Uh-huh! My feet are perfectly fine if they stay covered."

"Be glad I love you."

"And I love you too."

She snuggles against his chest, feeling quite content at the moment. He kisses the top of her forehead.

"Fred tells me that the Stag is on in one week."

Chummy laughs for a few minutes because Fred's ideas become schemes that fail most of the time. "Let me know how it goes."

"Apparently, the guys at the station have warned me about being attached to the ball-and-chain."

She eyes him quizzically with a smirk. "Yes, what are you getting into, a wife that can't cook."

He laughs, "Camilla, I don't mind eating poached eggs every day."

"I can burn toast. So, at least you won't starve."

"Good, to know."

He kisses her softly and yawns. Both are now very sleepy, and the day will be upon them soon enough.

He woke to the smell of burnt toast and poached eggs. His mind had to catch up to the rest of his body. He checks the time it's just past five am. He sits up slowly, remembering that his clothing was tossed throughout the flat. He searches for some shorts, and his dressing gown. Slowly he makes his way to the main rooms. She was cleaning in her dress. Everything was back in prime order and the kitchen was spotless. She hears him enter the kitchen, and she turns to greet him with a soft smile.

"Sorry, early start must return to Nonnatus before 7am as promised Trixie to take her shift this am." She hands him a cup of tea with two sugars and heavy on the milk.

"I may just get used to this." He said in a gravelly voice. Sitting they ate together silently as he was just happy to see her in his house.

Once they ate he grabs a shower, a shave and tidies his hair. Notes how he needs a quick trim around the ears. Perhaps that's what he'll do on his day off. He dresses in a simple tan slacks and a tan shirt with his vest with socks to match his outfit. Yes, he liked to look clean before he exits his home. He offers his overcoat and umbrella to use as they exit the flat because it's raining hard. He checks his watch it's just past six in the morning. He knew her shift starts at seven; this means they had an hour to walk back and for her to change into her work uniform. He stops mid step and pulls her back. "Will they be upset that you were gone all night?"

"I guess, but let's not dilly dally, and make me late, then I'll be in trouble."

They do arrive back at the house in plenty of time. It was Jenny who opens the door as she exits it. "Nurse Browne, where have you been? Peter!" she teases them. "Fred is looking for you he says you owe him sea bass. I also chucked out your garbage in the bin."

With that, she hops quickly down the steps and to her bike. Chummy's eyes the bike rack and notes that Cynthia's bike was gone. Jenny hops on her bike. "Cynthia left in the small hours, I think its Renee, she's expecting twins, and I'm off to help her as she's now in transition." And off she rode.

Peter enters the house with her, and they cross to the parlor, Sister Monica Joan was there already working on her handy crafts. It was Sister Julienne who nods to Chummy and Peter, saying nothing she continues to her office. Perhaps it was all good. She kisses Peter quickly on the cheek, and he bids her good bye and to have a good morning and adds he'll be back around dinnertime.

And to think it all started because of a few skiffled carrots.

The End.


End file.
